Chuck vs the Side Effect
by atlee
Summary: Chuck's dreams are getting worse, though perhaps catchier. This chapter is called "Once More, and Failing." Let's leave it at that.
1. The Scruffy Looking Nerd Herder

_I don't own "Chuck" or anything else referenced here, and basically have no right to be doing any of this._

_So, this idea just popped in my head, and I had to run with it. Don't worry, I'll be finishing up with "Chuck vs. the Island Getaway" in the next couple of days. But this is just like that, minus the angst, mystery, plot and logic._

_Not much introduction is necessary, other than that this story takes place just after the end of Season 2, and I assume (and hope) that it will bear no resemblance to anything that will happen in Season 3._

**Chuck vs. the Side Effect**

Chapter 4, er, 1 – A New Hopelessness

* * *

The gold lame jumpsuit was not one of Lester's better decisions.

This was the first thought that jumped into Chuck's head as he sat there watching the game. Lester was staring at the chessboard, while his partner watched him in surly silence. Finally, Lester moved his bishop and loudly announced, "Checkmate!"

Casey growled in disgust, his bearded face only partially hiding the scowl.

From behind him, Chuck heard Morgan say, "Not a good idea."

"What?" Lester protested. "I won fair and square."

"Maybe so. But Casey isn't exactly a good loser. He has a tendency to pull people's arms out of their sockets. Next time, I suggest letting him win."

"Oh," Lester's face turned ashen.

Chuck turned to examine his surroundings. The room was dark, and several boxes surrounded the walls. He moved over to one of the boxes, and saw that they were filled with various electronics equipment, all marked 'Buy More'.

He also noticed that the room was moving.

"Are we in a truck?"

Morgan gave Chuck a funny look. "Did you get hit in the head at the bar back there? Of course we're in my truck!"

"But all this stuff belongs to the Buy More!"

Morgan shook his head. "Hey, it's not my fault that Emmitt doesn't lock the back door. Besides, nobody is going to catch us. This truck is fast! Did I ever tell you about the time I made it to Valencia in under 12 parsecs?"

"Uh, Morgan, you do know that a parsec is a unit of distance, not time, right?"

Before Morgan could reply, there was a crashing sound from behind the boxes, and Chuck watched Jeff stumble into view. He said something that to Chuck sounded more like a bunch of gibberish and chirps.

"Wow, he's still toasted, huh?" Morgan commented, and Casey growled in response.

"Hold on, I've gotten used to Jeff when he's this messed up. I can understand him." Lester leaned over to Jeff. "He says he forgot he had a video message on his cell phone. He handed the phone to Chuck. "He thinks it's for you."

Chuck leaned over the phone, and watched the video. It was Sarah.

After watching the message, he said, "That's it?"

Jeff said something else that Chuck couldn't understand. "Jeff said he fell on the phone back at the bar, so it might be a bit damaged," Lester explained. "What did it say?"

"She said something like 'Help me OG1, you're my only hope. Who's OG1, anyway?"

"Hang on, I'll get him," Morgan responded. He knocked on the front wall of the truck, and said "Yo!" A moment later, Chuck felt the truck stop.

A moment later, the back door of the truck opened, and Devon climbed in. "What's up, bro?"

Chuck looked at his brother-in-law curiously. He was surprised to see how much being married to his sister had aged Devon. "Wait, you're OG1?"

"Yeah, dude. Don't you remember that was my nickname from back at the Gamma Epsilon Delta Iota fraternity. You know, Original Gangsta 1? Man, those were awesome times."

"Right. How could I forget," Chuck said wryly. His head was really starting to spin.

"So, what's up, bro? You want to get back to training? I've got the blindfold and the punching bag ready. Just remember to put more force into it this time."

"No, no. Sarah left a message for you. Said you're her only hope."

"Oh right. She's being kept at the Large Mart downtown."

"Really? Wait. Why?"

"You got me, Bro. But we're going to go over there and sneak in and get her? I've got the uniforms right here." He grabbed one of the boxes, and Chuck looked inside.

"Wait, since when do Large Mart employees need armor and helmets?"

"It's the day after Christmas, Man," Morgan explained with exaggerated patience. "We definitely need the armor and helmets." Behind him, Casey growled in agreement.

It turned out that Morgan was right. The Large Mart was a zoo. Chuck had to elbow several people in order to keep up with Devon, Morgan and Lester. Eventually, a woman grabbed Chuck on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, could you tell me if you have the IG-88 blender in stock?"

"What, er…" Finally, Devon walked back and came to Chuck's rescue.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. These are not the salespeople you're looking for."

"Oh," the woman said disappointedly and turned around.

As they made their way through the crowd, Chuck turned to Morgan. "So where's Anna?"

"Ah, she didn't want any part of my electronics smuggling biz." He shrugged. "It was inevitable, anyway. I was always meant to fly solo."

Finally, they made it to the back. Devon fished out a flashlight and turned it on.

"Uh, Devon, why is your flashlight blue?"

"Wait, you haven't seen these, Chuckster? They're the top of the line. Much more elegant than those clumsy ones you usually use."

They followed Devon until they came upon a closet door. Chuck tugged on the handle, and was surprised to find that the door was unlocked.

Inside, Sarah was seated on a bench, wearing the Halloween costume she had bought two Halloweens ago. "Isn't it a little early for that?" Chuck asked, trying not to stare too much.

Sarah shrugged. "Laundry day." Then she looked around, and sighed in relief. "Thank god you found me! You're my hero!" She got up, and proceeded to kiss Morgan on the lips.

"Whoa, whoa, what about me?" Chuck protested.

"You? Ewww, you're my brother, remember? I'm not kissing you!" Sarah explained, and then returned to making out with Morgan.

"Nooo!!!"

Chuck burst up, and took a moment to orient himself to his surroundings. Finally, he recognized the guest bedroom of his apartment. A moment later, the door opened. "Chuck!" Sarah exclaimed.

Chuck tried to ignore the small t-shirt and shorts she was wearing. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Never mind that. You had another dream, didn't you?"

Chuck sighed, and nodded.

"Ok." Sarah sat down on the bed. "This has gone on for long enough. You've had one of these dreams for every night this week."

"Well, what can we do?"

"I told Beckman." Sarah said.

"Wait, you did?" Chuck wasn't sure that was a good idea. The General had been less than patient with Chuck since he had uploaded the new Intersect into his head. She had questioned Chuck's motivation behind it, and it had been a struggle for Sarah to explain to her that Ellie and Awesome's wedding meant that Chuck and Sarah's cover depended on them now sharing an apartment.

"It's ok, Chuck. She told me that the team behind the new intersect included a psychiatrist. It sounds like he could help you."

"You think I'm nuts?"

"No, Chuck, it's not that. But you have to admit, your brain is a bit, unusual, these days. It could probably use the opinion of an expert."

"So Doc, what do you think?" Chuck asked Dr. Farrow.

"Man, that is messed up!" the Doctor replied.

Chuck sighed. Dr. Farrow wasn't what he had expected. He wasn't sure if he was expecting somebody with a German accent and a pipe, but Dr. Farrow barely looked like he'd graduated from high school.

The ride over to the meeting had been bad enough. Casey had spent the entire time making snide nutjob and fruitcake jokes. Chuck wished he could go back to just growling.

"I'm just messing with you!" Dr. Farrow slapped Chuck on the shoulder. "No, I expected something like this to happen. When something like the Intersect interacts with a person's brain, there can be some unusual side effects. Dreams are just one example.

"So, this is normal?"

"Well those are some pretty weird dreams. I really want to follow up with this lusting after your sister thing.

I don't lust after…"

"It's not matter," the doctor brushed him aside. "Now, tell me, I understand you attended Comic-con recently?"

"Yeah, a couple of weeks ago. Why?"

"Well, judging by your dream, I'd say that may have something to do with it. You may be especially suggestive to certain types of popular culture."

"So, what do I do?"

"Well, I'd suggest laying off of movies, television, and video games for a bit. That should at least lessen the impact of your dreams. In time, I'm sure they'll go away."

Chuck nodded, then looked up. "What am I supposed to do then, without any of that?"

Dr. Farrow shrugged. "Not my department."

As Chuck left the room, and walked over to Sarah, and alarming thought hit him. What exactly were the two of them supposed to do without any movies or TV to distract them?

Chuck gulped.

_Alright, I'm not sure where I'm going with this. It might be a full-on story, or just might be a few inter-connected scenes, serving no purpose other than entertaining myself. What do you think this story's fate is? Review and comment, por favor!_


	2. The Creature from Buymoria

_With Halloween coming up, I figured I could dust off a pseudo one-shot I'd done before. _

_I don't own 'Chuck.' If I did, they'd probably take it away from me after reading this._

**Chapter 2 - The Creature From Buymoria  
**

The good news was that the dreams had stopped. Per the doctor's instructions, Chuck had sworn off TV, movies, comic books, and video games. It was a high price to pay for a good night's sleep.

This meant that Chuck was spending a lot of time with his new roommate. Chuck had hoped living with Sarah would be beyond his dreams, or at least the dreams he'd been having before the "side effects" of the new Intersect started kicking in. This would finally given them the perfect chance to talk to each other honestly, and…do other things. Mostly the other things.

Unfortunately, he wasn't _only_ sharing the house with Sarah. He'd been disappointed, though not particularly surprised, when Beckman had insisted that the surveillance continue, even though Sarah would always be there. So, thanks to the placement of several cameras and receivers throughout the house, Chuck was cohabitating with a genial, friendly colleague, and nothing else. And his now dreamless nights were spent in the guest bedroom.

When he wasn't training, working, or out on missions, Chuck did get to spend time with Sarah, but things were awkward and strained. Thanks to the ever-present cameras, neither of them ever knew what to say. All of which made the absence of the TV, movies, comic books, and video games all the more painful for him.

* * *

"Gin!"

It was a Thursday evening in late October, and Chuck and Sarah had just returned from a mission. It had been a successful one, leading to the capture of several Ring members. However, the Intersect had been activated when one of the Ring heavies had attacked Sarah from behind. At once, Chuck had jumped on the man, and eventually it took both Casey and Sarah to pull Chuck off of him so that he would still be alive for questioning the next morning. Sarah had only been able to talk with Chuck about what had happened for a few moments before the debriefing with Beckman, and after that they headed back to the house, where all they could do was play cards.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted the game. Chuck glanced at Sarah uncertainly, who stood up and headed to the door.

"Hey guys!" the voice of Lester Patel drifted from the doorway. Before Sarah could say anything, he slid past her, with Jeff right behind him. Lester looked at the cards lying on the kitchen table and nudged his companion. "See, I told you we weren't going to interrupt anything hot."

Jeff sighed in disappointment.

"Uh, guys," Chuck quickly said, "what's up?"

"Well, we haven't seen much of you since you quit the Buy More, so we figured we should have our annual Halloween movie night here."

"Oh, I don't know…"

"Ah, c'mon, Sarah won't mind, will you?"

"Well, actually…"

"Hey, we've got a couple of classics," Lester waved a handful of DVDs in Chuck's face. "And it's not like you were doing anything," Lester pointed to the cards again.

Chuck had to admit that Lester was right. There was only so many nights of card games, Parcheesi, and Scattergories that he could take. They'd braved Monopoly one night, but after a dream about being chased by a giant thimble across the Atlantic City boardwalk, they'd decided it was safer to stick with Gin Rummy.

"Hey, we're not taking no for an answer," Jeff pressed on.

Chuck looked at Sarah. He knew that she could easily get rid of them forcefully, but it would require too much explanation. She nodded reluctantly.

"Alright guys," Chuck sighed, "pop the first one in."

Sarah gave up thirty minutes into the first movie. Chuck survived until the beginning of the second before his eyelids began to get heavy.

* * *

A loud crashing sound interrupted Chuck's sleep, and he cracked one eye open. Instead of the living room television, he found himself staring at several beakers, test tubes, and several machines that looked like they'd been left in the Buy More cage along with the Betamax VCRs. He also realized that his ankles and wrists were bound.

"He's alive!"

Chuck turned, and found himself staring at the exultant face of General Beckman. He'd never seen her that happy before. Actually, he'd never seen her happy at all before. "Excuse me?"

The General's face quickly returned to its natural state of annoyance and withering disapproval. "Jeff!"

Jeff shuffled over to the General, hunched over awkwardly. "Yesss?" he responded in a lisp.

"It talks! I thought I told you I didn't want this one to talk. That's all that last one ever did!"

"Uh, sorreee."

"You did take the old brain out, right?"

"Um…"

"Oh for crying out loud! This is what we get for bringing in private contractors. You were supposed to take out the old brain before you put the new one in. It's useless, and it just gets in the way." The General gave Jeff a perturbed look. "And why are you limping around like that? Did you get drunk and jump off the tower again?"

"Um, General, excuse me?"

Beckman sighed. "Yes, creature?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. At least it wasn't the worst thing she'd ever called him. "What's going on?"

"What's going on is that we've put a new brain in your head. This one will work better than that old one you've been carrying around. It will allow you to do all sorts of things you've never done before." She motioned to Jeff, who began to unbuckle the straps around Chuck's wrists and ankles.

"So, what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Do with it?" The General looked surprised. "You do whatever you're supposed to do with it. What kind of question is that?" She turned to Jeff. "You really should have taken the old brain out. We could have used it as a paperweight or a volleyball or something."

She turned back to Chuck. "No go out there and do great things with that brain of yours."

Chuck looked outside as another crash of thunder echoed outside. "Isn't it raining?"

Beckman shook her head. "Why couldn't we have just used the original body we were supposed to use? It was so much better looking and a lot less mouthy." She pointed to the door. "Just go!"

* * *

It was raining, all right. Chuck stumbled forward, trying to see where he was going. As far as he could tell, we was walking through a field that he was sure was nowhere near the greater Burbank area. Ahead he thought he could see a river in front of him. He figured he couldn't get any wetter than he already was, but he still shifted directions to avoid falling in it. Finally, he thought he saw a light ahead.

He found himself in front of a small hut. It didn't look like much, but there was smoke coming out of the chimney, so at least it should be warm and dry. He reached up to knock on the door.

Before his knuckles could make contact, the door creaked open, and Chuck was surprised to see Devon peering back at him. "You should come inside, Bro," he said and gestured for Chuck to follow.

The hut looked even tinier from the inside. Devon motioned for Chuck to sit on a wooden chair standing by the fire. Devon walked off to a tiny kitchen off to the side.

"What happened to you, Devon? Did Ellie get mad at you for leaving the seat up again?"

Devon walked back to the fire, looking at Chuck quizzically. "Do I know you, Bro?"

"Yeah, it's me, Chuck!" Devon's expression didn't change. "But you called me Bro!"

"I call everyone Bro, Bro. It's my thing. Here, have a protein shake. It'll make you feel better." He handed Chuck a mug of an unnaturally green-colored liquid. Chuck took a sip, and immediately regretted it.

Devon came back with a large bowl of water. "You should wash yourself off. You look a fright,." He said with a chuckle.

Chuck leaned over the bowl, and gasped when he saw his reflection. There were scars across his forehead, which his wet, matted hair only barely covered. A pair of bolts protruded from his neck. Clearly Jeff was about as good a surgeon as he was a tech support specialist.

"Not a pretty sight, eh Bro?" Chuck heard Devon ask. "That's ok, you're alright here with me." He slapped Chuck on the shoulder.

Chuck could feel the rush to his head immediately. The next thing he knew, the bowl had clattered to the floor, with the water streaming across the floor. Chuck's hands were around Devon's neck, and he could feel himself squeeze against his will. Even as his mind raged, he couldn't will himself to stop.

"Devon honey, I'm…" Chuck turned to the door, the flash finally over, as Devon fell to the ground.

"Oh my God!" Ellie grabbed a shovel standing by the door, and began swinging it at Chuck. "Stay away, you monster!" Ellie yelled.

Chuck backed away, knowing he had to get away before another flash started. He edged his way around the room staying out of reach of the shovel. Finally he was able to turn around and rush out the door.

* * *

Chuck ran frantically back the way he had come. Eventually, he became vaguely aware that the rain around him had stopped, and he was able to see his surroundings. With a sigh of relief, he recognized the landmarks of his old neighborhood. He approached the door to his old house, and found it unlocked. Exhausted, he stumbled to the guest bedroom and collapsed. A moment later he heard a sound from outside, and jumped to his feet.

"Hey, Chuck," Sarah said as she climbed through the Morgan door, "I'm glad to see you're here."

"Thank God, Sarah. I need to talk to you."

"And I need to talk to you." Sarah sat down on the bed. "Have you ever read fanfiction?"

"Are you kidding? Do you have any idea what kind of dreams I'd wind up with?"

"Well, I was reading some earlier," Sarah pressed on. "And it got me thinking. It seemed like back in Barstow you and I were headed for a nice 'MA' rating. But lately, it seems like we've slowed down, and now we're, well, T or even K+."

"Um, yeah, well there's the whole surveillance thing…"

Sarah ignored him and continued. "I don't want to be K+ any more. I don't just want to be about minor action violence without serious injury and mild coarse language."

"Sarah, I like where you're going with this but something just happened…"

Sarah sighed. "Alright, alright, I get it. You need time after everything that's happened."

"Yeah, I…Wait, you know what happened?"

"Of course. You had another little slip-up. It's not really a surprise. The General really should have gone through all of the clinical trials before sticking that second brain in you."

"Oh, um yeah."

"So, I'll give you a little more time. But for now, would you at least settle for an 'T' relationship?" She leaned across the bed over to him.

"Oh, I, uh, oh ok."

Chuck sighed as Sarah looked deeply into his eyes, and began to nuzzle at his neck. "Oh, Sarah," he cooed.

"Oh baby," she responded in a far too deep, familiar sounding voice.

* * *

A wet feeling on Chuck's face caused him to open his eyes. He found himself lying on his couch. He could feel a weight on his shoulder, and he turned to see Jeff lying on top of him, snoring. He glanced over and saw a few beer bottles on the coffee table.

"Damnit, Jeff, I finally get a decent dream, and you had to ruin it." He shoved the older man slightly, who finally groaned.

"Jeff, wake up, it's time to go."

"Huh, go where?"

"Home, Jeff."

"Oh, ok. You want to get some action, huh?"

"Exactly." Even if it was through his subconscious only.

A few minutes later, the cab arrived and Jeff stumbled out the door. Chuck sighed and headed back to his room. He fell back to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Chuck found himself in the middle of the Burbank Buy More. The store appeared to be closed, as there were no customers or employees to be seen. Chuck wasn't sure how he'd gotten here, but he needed to find Sarah again.

As if on cue, Chuck's phone rang, and he saw Sarah's face smiling at him from the screen. "Hey, Sarah, where are you? I…"

"Hello, Bartowski." The voice was sinister, slightly mocking, and definitely not Sarah's. At least it didn't sound like Jeff, though.

"Who are you? Why do you have Sarah's phone?"

"Miss Walker is here, with me. We've been having a nice conversation. She's been telling me how much you like games."

"Games? What are you talking about?"

"She tells me you like movies. Tell me, Bartowski, what's your favorite scare movie?"

"Scary? Uh, those movies with talking animals always freak me out, like 'Beverly Hills Chihuahua' or that one with the chipmunks."

"Well, since you like scary movies so much, how about we play a game? I ask you a question, you get it right, and your Sarah lives."

Chuck gulped, but was relieved that his knowledge of movie trivia would finally come to good use.

"Here's your question: Who led the National League in slugging percentage in 1964?"

"Wait, what? I thought the question was about horror movies! I don't even know what a slugging percentage is!"

"Did you really trust a crank-calling serial killer to play fair? Now answer the question!"

"Um, it's…" He ran to the computer desk, and tried to open the Web browser. "Wait, I've got it, it's…"

The line went dead. "Oh God! Oh God!"

* * *

As Chuck was desperately trying to find a signal on his phone, he heard noises coming from the Buy More's multimedia room. He quietly moved over there, and carefully opened the door.

Morgan, Lester, Anna, and Casey were seated inside, watching an old horror movie. "Oh come on!" Casey yelled. "A chainsaw would never make blood fly around like that. What kind of research do these people do?"

"Hey guys," Chuck interrupted. "I'm looking for Sarah. Have you seen her?"

Lester shrugged. "Nope. Maybe the serial killer got her."

"Wait, what, there really is a serial killer?"

"Yeah, didn't you hear?"

"Seriously," Anna laughed. "I thought that second brain was supposed to make you smart or something."

"I'd love to help," Morgan said, "but we're all staying in here where it's safe."

"But, Sarah…"

"Hey, Chuck, listen to me!" Morgan stood up. "You have to follow the rules."

"Rules?" Casey said incredulously.

"Yeah, there are certain rules you have to follow to survive when a serial killer is out there. Rule number one: never have sex."

"Oh for God sakes!" Casey stood up and elbowed Morgan back into the recliner. "First of all, I doubt that rule is an issue for any of you idiots. Second of all, a serial killer is just like any other killer. Hit him hard enough, and he won't kill 'ya. Now, as for…" The chirp of Casey's phone interrupted his speech, and he grabbed it from his pocket. "Yeah?" He listened for a moment. "Scary movie? I dunno. Probably 'Woodstock.'" Casey listened to the phone for a moment before nodding. "Alright." He looked back into the room, and said, "I'll be right back."

"He's doomed." Morgan remarked as Casey left the room.

"C'mon guys," Chuck said, "aren't you going to help me find Sarah?" Everybody was watching the movie, so Chuck followed Casey out.

* * *

Casey was nowhere to be seen when Chuck returned into the Buy More showroom. As Chuck was running towards, he noticed a light streaming underneath the office door. He turned and quietly approached the door, carefully listening for any sound. He slowly opened the door and looked inside. Big Mike was seated in his chair, facing away from the door, with a half-eaten sandwich sitting on his desk.

"Big Mike! Have you seen Sarah?" There was no answer. Chuck tapped the larger man on the shoulder. The chair turned around slowly, and Chuck gasped.

Big Mike was seated on the chair, with his prized marlin protruding from his chest. "Oh God!" Chuck said, and stepped back.

"Hey! Chuck killed Big Mike!" Chuck turned to see Lester and Anna standing outside, staring at him.

"What kind of monster are you?" Anna asked.

"No guys, it wasn't me, it was…"

"I knew we shouldn't have trusted him. It's always the ones with the surgically implanted brains to go bad!" By this point, Morgan had come up behind Lester and Anna.

"Come on guys, let's get him!" Lester said as he began eating the leftover sandwich.

Chuck ran past them and headed out the door. It had started raining again, and he found himself running back through the field. He thought he could make out the silhouette of a building in front of him, and he veered towards it. As he approached, he could just barely make out the form of a windmill. "God bless California and its alternative energy," he thought to himself as he headed towards the door.

He climbed up the stairs and soon found himself in a small room. A little light could be seen coming through a small window. The light seemed to be getting larger, and Chuck looked outside.

A crowd of people were headed towards him. Chuck recognized Ellie, Casey, Morgan, Anna, Lester, and a few others, all headed toward him.

"It's a good thing the Large Mart was having its semi-annual torch and pitchfork sale!" Chuck heard Morgan yell.

"Wait, I think I see him!" Chuck saw Ellie pointing to the window.

"Get him!" Devon yelled from behind her. He seemed to be struggling to keep up, but otherwise seemed ok. Chuck sighed in relief.

He opened the window and poked his head outside. "Wait, guys! Devon's ok! I didn't kill anyone!"

"Don't listen to the monster! He killed Big Mike, and Sarah!"

"Hold on!" Chuck turned his head, and saw Beckman and Jeff approaching. "That's Government property! Let me get the brain out and then you can carry on with your angry mob!"

"This is awesome," Jeff said as Lester handed him a torch. "It'll be just like what we did with those self-absorbed teenage vampires last week."

The words barely registered to Chuck. "Wait, you mean Sarah's dead? It can't be." Chuck was interrupted by the smell of smoke. Below, he could see the crowd lighting the windmill with the blazing torches.

"No, I didn't do it!" The light from the torches briefly caused Chuck to get a better look at his hands. They were covered in blood. "Oh no! No! I am a monster" The smoke began to reach the upper floor, and he tried batting it away.

The blinding white smoke began to feel thicker around him, and he felt a cloud touch his face. It almost felt like…

Linen.

* * *

Chuck opened his eyes, and found himself tangled around the sheets in his bed with the pillow covering half of his face.

"Chuck, wake up!"

Chuck pushed the sheet away and saw Sarah staring at him in concern.

"You were having another dream, weren't you?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

Sarah sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have let those two jackasses in last night. Are you ok?"

"Fine, fine. Did I wake you?"

She nodded. "You were yelling 'I'm a monster' over and over again."

Chuck sighed. "Maybe I am."

"Chuck, what are you talking about?"

"You saw me last night, Sarah. That was…monstrous."

"Chuck, you're not a monster. Here." She went to the dresser, and grabbed a small mirror. "Do you see a monster here?"

Despite the serious case of bedhead, Chuck had to admit he didn't.

"No. And believe me, you do _not_ look like a monster to me." Chuck gave her a surprised look, and she colored slightly.

"And as for last night, all you did was protect me from somebody that wanted to hurt me. It was a little unwise, but hardly monstrous. You might want to spread out your flashes to protect somebody else once in a while, but I know you'll never hurt anybody unless you have to."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because that Intersect is attached to you. That Intersect's co-habitating with you, and with your brain, and that's all I, and you should, need to know."

Chuck nodded. He still wasn't sure, but he felt a little better.

"Now come on," Sarah motioned for Chuck to get out of bed. "I've got breakfast ready." Chuck got up and followed her.

Chuck sat down, staring at the cereal box standing at the table.

Sarah looked at him. "What's wrong now?"

"Oh, I'm not really hungry."

She followed his glance to the table. "What's wrong? I thought you loved Frankenberry!"


	3. A Three Hour Chuck

_To recap the earlier chapters: _

_It's been a few months since Chuck "reintersected" himself, and has begun to suffer from strange dreams, in which his own life seems to crash into whatever movie, TV show, comic book or video game happens to be rattling around in his mind. Dr. Farrow, a CIA doctor, has suggested that he needs to avoid any time of these stimuli to keep the dreams at bay. Unfortunately, while this might mean he can spend more fun times with his new roommate Sarah, the presence of the usual surveillance means that those times are more quantity than quality._

_And most importantly, I don't own 'Chuck' or anything else referenced here. Though Christmas is coming up. WHat does a TV show-containing package sound like when you shake it?_

**A Three Hour Chuck**

A few mornings later, a freshly showered and dressed Sarah walked into the kitchen to find Chuck staring blankly at his coffee cup. The economy-sized bags under his eyes, not to mention the lack of any coffee in the cup, quickly explained the situation to Sarah.

"It happened again," she said more than asked.

Chuck looked up sadly. "Yeah."

"But you've been staying away from the movies, TV, and comic books right?"

Chuck shrugged. "I'm not sure it matters anymore."

Sarah took his coffee cup, and filled it with coffee. Returning to the table, she sat down and said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Chuck sighed. "You know that movie 'The Breakfast Club'?"

Sarah nodded. She'd seen it several times as a kid.

"Ellie used to watch it all the time. I guess I was reminded of it that when we had dinner with her and Devon last night."

"Oh. Well, that doesn't sound too bad. It wasn't exactly a scary movie." She tried to avoid asking the question that popped in her mind next, but failed. "So was I the homecoming queen?"

Chuck shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Um, that was Ellie."

"Oh. So I wasn't in it?"

"Well, you were…uh…Ally Sheedy. You looked like your yearbook photo, actually."

Sarah pretended not to be disturbed by this, reminding herself that she was worried about Chuck. Still, she wished she hadn't had to bring him along to her reunion last year.

"Well, it still doesn't sound too bad."

Chuck shook his head. "It gets worse. Casey was in it."

"Ah. He was the jock?"

"The rebel."

Sarah couldn't help but laugh at that. "Casey? A rebel?" She would have loved to have seen that.

"Yeah, I know. But you remember how the movie ends, right?"

Sarah thought back. There was a dance sequence, a makeover, and… "Oh!"

"Yeah."

"So, Ellie and Casey?"

Chuck's face took on a greenish tinge. "I've seen a lot of disturbing things, thanks to the Intersect. But that…"

Sarah watched him with concern. The dreams were becoming more persistent. The lack of sleep had already begun affecting him on missions, and it was clear the previous night that Devon and Ellie could see that something was wrong. She knew she would have to get help with this.

* * *

"I'm afraid we've been following the wrong tactic," Dr. Farrow commented.

The CIA psychologist still looked more like one of Chuck's fellow Nerd Herders than a licensed professional to Sarah, but she knew that something had to be done. She had contacted him after Chuck had told her about his last dream, and a day later he had flown in, accompanied by General Beckman. Now, Sarah, Casey and Beckman were gathered around the doctor in a private wing of a local hospital. Chuck was lying down in a separate room, being monitored by a team of CIA doctors.

"What do you mean, Doctor?" the General asked.

"We had assumed that the patient's exposure to popular culture was interacting with the Intersect, resulting in the dreams. But the patient seems to have been so fully immersed in these stimuli throughout his life that perhaps this was not the cause."

"English, Doctor?" Casey asked. He clearly was not particularly comfortable around shrinks.

"He's seen too many movies and watched too much TV," the Doctor explained.

Casey snorted.

"Plus, it's possible that the nature of his dreams isn't due to a specific movie or video game, but rather his own neuroses."

Sarah wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. "So what do you suggest?"

The doctor leaned back in his chair, giving off an air of confidence that Sarah suspected was mainly for show. "Well, if avoidance didn't work, I suggest total immersion."

"What do you mean?"

"We show him various movies, TV shows and so forth, and see what happens."

"What do you mean, see what happens? We can't see into the Intersect's mind. Thank God," Casey added the last part under his breath, though Sarah could hear him.

"Actually, we can," the Doctor responded. "Thanks to a new little device we developed, we can create digital recordings of people's dreams, and play them back to view them."

"You're kidding!" Sarah wasn't sure whether she was more impressed or disturbed by the idea.

"Nope. I swear, if people knew the cool stuff we develop using their tax dollars, they'd so want to pay more taxes."

Sarah didn't respond to that.

"Anyway, we've already started, and the first recording should be just about ready. Just keep in mind, we've mostly had to rely on my own video collection, so please don't judge." A technician dressed in white entered the room and nodded.

"Well, it looks like we're ready to go. The monitor is in the other room." Dr. Farrow beckoned them to follow.

As they walked down the hall, Casey leaned in to Sarah and whispered, "I wonder if the good doctor has any porn. I'll bet that would lead to some _fascinating_ dreams."

Sarah winced at the thought.

* * *

"Now, we're just about ready." They were in a room with a large monitor on one wall, and a small laptop in a corner. A pair of speakers stood at opposite corners on one wall. The Doctor was seated at the laptop, typing furiously, while Sarah, Casey and Beckman were seated in various lounge chairs placed around the room.

"Ok. I hope everyone's comfortable. I was hoping to get chairs with cup holders in the armrest to get that full movie-going experience. But apparently we don't have the budget for that."

"Just play the recording, Doctor," the General said in exasperation.

"Ok, here goes." Doctor Farrow sat down, and picked up a bowl that stood in his chair. "Popcorn, anyone?"

Sarah turned to face the screen.

* * *

A moment, later the black of the screen turned to a bright light and a gentle lapping sound emanated from the speakers, and Sarah realized she was staring at a beach. The screen showed a wide view of shimmering water, before abruptly turning. After a moment of disorientation, Sarah realized that the screen was displaying Chuck's perspective.

Two figures approached on the beach. Sarah recognized Morgan in a red shirt and white cap with a small brim surrounding it. It took her a few more moments to recognize the second figure. Casey was dressed in a blue shirt and a dark sailor's cap. The only part of the image that seemed to fit was the scowl on his face. Sarah guffawed.

"So, can you fix the boat?" Casey asked.

"I'm working on it," Sarah heard Chuck's voice respond.

"Unbelievable," Casey grumbled. "That thing in your brain is supposed to make you some supergenius, but you can't even fix a whole in our damn boat."

"Hey, give him some slack," Morgan said. "He said he's working on it."

Casey hit Morgan on the head. "Don't think I haven't forgotten how we got in this mess. I never should have let you drive!"

"I'm just saying, he'll figure something out. I mean look, he managed to make an iPod out of a coconut, so he can do anything. Granted, it only seems to play Nickelback and Creed, but still…"

"Thanks, little buddy," Chuck's voice said.

* * *

"Who is that?" General Beckman asked in the room, pointing to the image of Morgan on screen.

"Grimes," Casey spat out the name. "Bartowski's little sidekick. If life were a TV show, then he would definitely be playing that part."

"He's not the only one typecast is he, Skipper?" Sarah asked Casey.

Casey grumbled something in reply. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah thought she saw the General crack a brief smile.

* * *

"Any luck?" The view on the screen turned, and Sarah saw that the question had come from General Beckman. Sarah gasped when she saw that Director Graham was standing beside the General on screen. He appeared slightly fuzzy, which confused her until she remembered that Chuck had never met him, and the dream was based only on a memory of his appearances on the Castle's screen.

Graham was wearing a dark jacket and pants, with a white fedora atop his head. Even more strangely, Beckman was wearing a pastel dress, pearls, and a blue hat. She was carrying a parasol, which she held over her head in a nonchalant manner.

"Still working on it, Director Graham."

Graham shook his head. "Really, so hard to find good help these days."

"Well, please finish," Beckman said, "because I could use another mai tai, and I think that bartending machine you built is stuck."

"And once you take care of that, I think there's a spider by my bed that I need you to kill."

Sarah heard Chuck sigh. "All right, I'll be right there." The screen returned to Casey. "I'll be right back," Chuck's voice said.

"Alright, but hurry back, _Professor_." Sarah noted the irony in Casey's voice.

* * *

"How dare Bartowski think that of me?" Beckman asked incredulously back in the room. "I work very hard, thank you. Just because I don't personally go on missions, that doesn't mean we don't take chances as well! I hardly ever use my guard detail. And look what happened to Director Graham!"

* * *

The view on the screen began to move backward, as Dream Chuck walked away from the beach. Soon, a smattering of palm trees appeared on the periphery of the screen, and the sound of splashing could be heard through the speakers. Eventually, a small lagoon appeared, and Sarah discovered who was causing the splashing. She was.

Or at least Chuck's dream version of her, which was currently wearing a white bikini and a beatific smile. The real Sarah squirmed awkwardly in her seat. She wasn't sure how the General or Casey would react to this, and she felt a sudden anger at Chuck for putting her in this position. She had to remind herself that he couldn't control his dreams, and that her missions often required her to wear revealing outfits. Plus, she had to admit she looked quite amazing in his dream vision. Her skin even seemed to glow slightly

"Chuck," Dream Sarah said, as she crawled out of the lagoon, shaking the water out of her hair in an unnaturally slow speed. "Have you figured out a way to fix the boat yet?"

"I keep waiting to flash on how to do it, but nothing happens, Sarah. I don't know what to do."

"You have to relax, Chuck. Don't let the pressure get to you. Just remember that we are all counting on you, and we all have faith in you."

"Don't listen to her, Chuck." The screen view turned, and a brunette walked up in cutoff shorts and a flannel shirt tied around her waist. Sarah's grip on her chair tightened as she recognized Jill Roberts.

"Chuck," Jill said. "They're just using you to get off the island. They'll probably just leave you here after the boat is fixed."

"No, Sarah wouldn't do that, Jill. I believe her."

"Wouldn't she, Chuck? Of course you believe her, she's supposed to be convincing. She's an _actress_, for God's sake."

"Oh please," Screen Sarah retorted. "And that girl next door thing is real? C'mon Chuck, she's let you down before. You can't listen to anything she says."

The screen shifted rapidly from Sarah to Jill, as if Dream Chuck couldn't decide. Finally, his voice said, "I've got to get out of here," and the view quickly changed to that of a dense jungle.

* * *

"Was that Jill Roberts?" General Beckman asked. "The escaped Fulcrum agent?"

"Yes General, it was," Sarah noted the note of amusement in Casey's voice.

"She's rather attractive, isn't she?"

"Yes, General, she is."

"Still, I'm concerned that the Intersect is dreaming about an enemy agent. We can't have it in the hands of our enemies."

"General, Roberts was a large part of the Intersect's life some time ago. It's natural he still thinks of her." Sarah wasn't sure whether she had convinced the General, and was even less sure that she'd convinced herself.

* * *

The movement on the screen slowed down, and Sarah could see that Dream Chuck had arrived at a clearing. Lester and Jeff were kneeling down there, and appeared to be digging at something.

"What are you two doing here?" Dream Chuck asked.

Lester shrugged. "Jeff says there's some sort of hatch down there."

Jeff looked up. "I thought I heard music," he explained

"I didn't hear anything," Lester responded. "But we've got nothing better to do here."

"Hey, you never know what could be down there. It could be the secrets of the universe, all laid out in some overly convoluted manner that will take us years to figure out. Or it could be some really obsolete computer equipment that we could play Pong on for hours."

"Jeff," Chuck's voice asked. "Are you high?"

"Actually, no. Tyler Martin over there is hogging the stash."

The view shifted to the side, where the British rocker was busy trying to smash a porcelain Virgin Mary figurine against a rock.

"Hey!" Jeff exclaimed. "I think I've hit something." He began to furiously wipe dust away from the hole he'd been digging, and the view on the screen approached it.

"It looks like there are some numbers on it," Sarah heard Chuck's voice say.

"Wait! Wait!" Lester said as the view became clearer. "I know these numbers!" He turned to Jeff. "If you take my BuyMore Employee ID and add it to yours, divide by our hourly wage, that's the number you get!"

"No way!" Jeff replied, as he tapped each of his fingers in a counting motion. "Wait, I think you're off by one."

"Did you round up to the nearest whole number? You're supposed to do that when the decimal starts with a 5." The two began debating, as the view on screen backed away from the hole.

* * *

"This dream is getting very confusing," the General commented, as she stared at the screen. "Is that a polar bear in the background?"

* * *

"Chuck."

The view on the screens whirls around, and the image of Jill appeared again.

"Chuck, you have to follow me."

"Why? What is it?"

"I can get you away from here. Away from all of this pressure, they're putting you under. I can help you be yourself again."

Jill started walking away back into the jungle, and after a moment the view on screen began to follow her. A few times, Sarah thought she caught the view pan downward to the back of her cutoff shorts, which didn't exactly please her.

After a few moments, the trees cleared away as a small set of houses appeared. The view of the first house just as the door opened.

"Ah, Mr. Bartowski." Sarah immediately recognized Lt. Mauser, and felt a flush of anger hit. "So glad you could make it. Thank you Jill."

"What is this place?" Chuck's voice asked.

"This is our home. You didn't think that there were others here on the island, did you? Your shipwrecked mates were the only people on the Island."

"Um, I hadn't really thought about it. So is this some sort of secret hideout?"

"Well, this used to be the headquarters of the Fulcrum Initiative, but they're pretty much gone now."

"Chuck, you can be happy here," Jill said. "The CIA and NSA can't understand you like we can."

"She's right," Mauser added. "We have all of the finest seafood, we have our own barbershop quartet, and our book club meets every Tuesday. This month we're reading 'Bridget Jones…'"

Mauser stopped when a log hit him over the head. The view shifted, and Sarah could see that her dream counterpart was now restraining Jill. Much to the real Sarah's relief, Dream Sarah had found a more suitable outfit than the earlier bikini. "Chuck, are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm ok."

"You should be more careful with who you follow, Beanpole." Casey, still in his sailor hat, was swinging the log in his hands as he stood over the unconscious form of Mauser.

"Chuck, don't trust them," Jill said. "They just want to use you."

"I trust them, Jill."

"You hear that, Mata Hari?" Casey retorted. "Now, how about we get some information out of these two."

"Well, we could always do the reeds under the fingernails routine," Sarah suggested.

"Never tried that one. Where'd you learn it?"

"I had a mission in Iraq a few years back. So how about you deal with him, and I'll take her."

Casey shrugged. "Lady's choice." He dragged Mauser into the house. "C'mon, Sergeant Bilko, you and I are going to have some fun."

"Sarah," Chuck's voice said, "you can't do this! You're not a torturer."

"I have to do a lot of things to keep you safe, Chuck," Dream Sarah said. The real Sarah winced at the statement, but didn't entirely disagree. She was just glad she didn't have to see Dream Chuck's expression when she said it, though she knew it well.

"You should step away, I'm going to need room for this."

"Chuck, no, you can't let her!" Jill protested.

"Chuck, it's ok, this is for the best. Maybe you should go find Morgan. I should have a talk with him as well. His crashing the boat seemed awfully suspicious."

The view of Sarah shrank as Dream Chuck backed away. His voice kept repeating the word "no." Then the sound of a scream echoed through the room's speakers, and the screen turned white.

* * *

"That was intense!" Dr. Farrow exclaimed after he'd turned the lights back on. "More life-like than I ever expected."

"I admit I saw some disturbing things," General Beckman said as she stood up. "But what use is any of it?"

"Well, I think if we want to figure out what's wrong with the subject, we have to understand his dreams. I think we saw some very suggestive things about him in that one."

The General and Casey both snorted.

Sarah tried not to dwell on what she had seen as she followed the others out of the room. She wasn't sure she was happy to see herself on display like that. It made clear that her relationship with Chuck had some things to work through. Her professional relationship, she clarified in her mind.

"What's next?" she asked, more to avoid her thoughts than out of any immediate curiosity.

"I want to keep him here overnight, to expose him to more stimuli. But we're making progress, I promise you of that."

Sarah sighed, wishing she shared his confidence.

***

_I had meant to do a separate "Breakfast Club" chapter, but it wasn't working. But, breaking every known rule of good writing, I couldn't let go and had Chuck describe it in the beginning._

_This story started off as just a one-off, but plot keeps trying to sneak in. So, I plan to keep on this one._

_Please, review, let me know if this is going anywhere. And thanks very much for reading!_


	4. Chuck's Latest Dream – new on DVD

_Yes, I know. The last time this story was updated, Tiger Woods was a paragon of virtue and Betty White was an old woman who couldn't find work. And this is only a short update. _

_But I always wanted to keep this story going (especially after "Chuck vs. the Tooth" for perhaps obvious reasons), and even though this is only a quick update, I wanted to get something up before the season premiere. I hope you enjoy it, and I promise there will be another update soon (estimated arrival date, March 2011?)_

_So, without further ado, my take on the ups and downs of Season 3._

_Ok, a little ado. Ado not own "Chuck."_

**4. Chuck's Latest Dream – new on DVD**

"My God, what a nightmare."

Despite the countless number of perilous situations she'd seen Casey face, Sarah had never seen him so pale. His face was paler than she'd ever seen it, and he clutched the armrest of his chair with a fervor that made her wonder if it wood break off. She felt the temptation to go over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, but she didn't know how he'd react.

"I mean, I've only just been getting used to the idea of Bartowski having all of these powers all of a sudden. I can kind of dealing with that. But what we just saw." Casey took a moment to collect himself. "But then that part about Grimes becoming an Agent…" Casey shuddered again.

Sarah looked around the room. General Beckman also looked ill-at-ease, and was pacing back and forth around the room. Dr. Farrow was seated, his face thoughtful. Clearly, viewing the latest of Chuck's dreams had affected everyone.

"Parts of that were quite fascinating," Dr. Farrow said. "Mr. Bartowski is the most remarkable test subject I've ever seen. I'd really like to publish my findings." He looked over at the General. "If that were allowed, of course."

"But what did this all mean?" Sarah asked the doctor.

"To be honest, a lot of it seemed disjointed. Almost if the dream itself was intended to illicit certain reactions: anger, impatience, annoyance."

"And what of this Agent Shaw that appeared so prominently in the dream?" General Beckman asked. "I always understood that everything in a dream was supposed to be vivid, lifelike. Why was he so different?"

"I must admit I'm stumped about that one," Dr. Farrow replied.

Sarah considered her own reaction to seeing Chuck's latest dream. Much of it made her uncomfortable, especially in the way Chuck seemed to view her. She also didn't seem to understand the appearance of the mysterious Hannah. She supposed that the doctor would say that she was some strange creation of his own insecurities or something like that. Whatever it was, Sarah didn't like it. As worried as she was about Chuck's insecurities, she really wished they'd stop manifesting themselves in the form of hot brunettes.

There were other odd things about the dream as well. Much of it, especially towards the end, appeared to be jumpy, almost as if the dream was skipping parts. She looked over towards the doctor, who nodded and gave her a brief smile.

She turned back to Casey. "So is your name really Alex? And do you have a daughter?"

The question seemed to help Casey remember himself. "Of course not!" he snorted. "I don't have a daughter, and she isn't named after me." He shook his head. "You'd think Bartowski would have more imagination. Agent Forrest, me _and_ my secret daughter all having the same first name?"

"Well, that's good, Colonel," the General said, a slight smirk on her face. "Then you won't have to worry about your daughter hooking up with Grimes."

Casey immediately turned pale again and sank back in his chair.

"What about that part towards the end, where Chuck seemed to be dreaming within his dream?" the General asked.

"Oh, you mean the part about the tooth? That was especially fascinating. On some level, Chuck understands what's happening to him, and this knowledge is manifesting itself through his dream. So Chuck himself dreams about having dreams caused by the Intersect. I read something about a multiple level dream phenomenon in a journal recently. Had to do with something called 'inception', I believe."

Beckman didn't seem to share the doctor's intellectual curiosity. "Just tell me you can fix the Intersect, Dr. Farrow. I don't need to tell you how much money the government has spent on this project."

"I understand your sense of urgency, General," the doctor responded, nonplussed. "But I must assure you that anytime you deal with the human brain, you can't expect guaranteed results. Too many variables come into play."

"Well, we pay you to deal with those variables, Doctor. Perhaps that's part of the issue. We can always find another doctor."

"Maybe. There are a lot of us out there, and we do love this kind of stuff. But trust me, I think we will see results soon enough."

General Beckman didn't say anything further, though it was clear to Sarah that she wasn't sold by Dr. Farrow's claim.

"Perhaps, if you wouldn't mind General, I could have a brief word with Agent Walker alone."

Surprised by the suggestion, Sarah turned to see how the General would respond. Reluctant at first, the older woman finally shrugged. "Colonel, perhaps you would accompany me to the cafeteria?"

His face still white, Casey nodded. "Do they have scotch? I need to get that image of Grimes wandering through Castle out of my head."

* * *

"Then you're sure there's hope for Chuck?" Sarah asked once the General and Casey had left.

Dr. Farrow smiled briefly. "I think I'm beginning to understand the situation. There were parts of the last dream that suggested an additional variable we need to explore further."

"An additional variable? There was a lot of things going on in that dream, but I didn't notice anything that could help Chuck."

"Ah, that's because I didn't show those parts of the dream to you."

"Oh." That explained why the end of the dream seemed to skip around so much. "But why not?"

"Well, I'm not sure the General or your partner are quite ready for it yet," the doctor said mysteriously. "And besides, there was another dream that follows this one, which I'd like to show the three of you first."

"So, that will tell us more about what's affecting Chuck?" Sarah could feel the first stirrings of hope.

"Well, that. And it's going to be fun to watch. Trust me."


	5. Once More, and Failing

_So yes, the last real update to this story was a long time ago, but I'm catching up now. This particular chapter has been one I've been planning on for a while. _

_I don't own "Chuck." If I did, they'd take it away from me after reading this._

**Chapter 5. Once More, and Failing**

"Alright, everybody ready?"

Dr. Farrow placed the DVD into the machine and studied the assembly behind him. Casey looked bored, the General impatient, and Sarah anxious.

"Please tell me Doctor that this will be of some use. I need to be at a meeting with the Joint Chiefs at 3."

"I assure you, General, this will be very…edifying."

"Oh quit throwing around the big words, and just play the damn thing," Casey growled.

"Fine, fine," the doctor said as he went to dim the lights.

* * *

"Bartowski!"

Chuck was in the Buy More, calming a frantic customer who had dropped her SmartPhone. He looked up to see Casey storm towards him.

"Excuse me," he said to the customer, and followed Casey into one of the aisles.

"What the hell happened last night?" Casey growled at him.

"I swear, I was sure that guy had a gun!" Casey and Chuck had gone their separate ways after the mission, so the NSA agent had clearly been saving up his rage for the next morning.

"You can't tell the difference between a gun and a lighter? Jesus, Bartowski."

Casey stomped back out into the middle of the showroom. As Chuck began to follow him, he whirled around.

"You know, Bartowski, you'd think all that expensive machinery in your brain would make you at least something resembling intelligent. But I think it's time that you face facts." He paused to point his finger at Chuck before continuing. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, Casey, you've been telling me that ever since I met you."

"Well, it hasn't sunk in. Probably has something to do with your being an idiot. So I'm just going to have to make sure this gets through your thick skull.

"Chuck…"

_Your reasoning is sad,_

_your ideas just suck_

_There's a clog in_

_Your noggin_

_Keeping everything stuck._

_

* * *

_

Up until that point, the dream sequence that Dr. Farrow had showed them was very familiar to Sarah. She'd seen Casey give Chuck grief more times than she could count, and she knew that the older man took a perverse pleasure in torturing the Intersect. So, the only thing that surprised Sarah about the dream was how ordinary it was.

Up until the last words that Casey had said.

In fact, he hadn't said them at all. He'd sung them.

Sarah ventured a look at her partner. Clearly, he was shocked, and none-too-pleased, about this latest scene too.

She turned back to the screen.

* * *

_Chuck you don't have a lick of sense_

_Your instincts are a mess_

_There's no cognition_

_On our missions_

_All this I have to stress_

_Your inspiration isn't there_

_Your brainstorms are in drought_

_Tu cabeza_

_Is a maze-a_

_That has no way out._

_

* * *

_

"What the hell is this?" Casey growled. His Chuck dreamworld doppelganger had now moved to the center of the store, and was pacing back and forth in a weird combination of Mick Jagger strut and a makeshift softshoe. Some of the Nerd Herders and salesmen in the store had started gathering around to watch the show.

"Well, Colonel," Dr. Farrow responded, "while this may seem silly to you, I do suggest you pay attention. It certainly gives some insight into your relationship with Chuck."

"Insight? Of what, how much of a moron he is?"

Sarah didn't interrupt, but she suspected that Casey was more upset that Chuck was subconsciously making him look foolish.

"I think it runs a bit deeper than that," the doctor said. "But, to more directly answer your question, this would happen to be the chorus."

* * *

_Chuck your head's hollow_

_Your IQ's just so low_

_It would take ten miles of paper_

_Just to list what you don't know_

_Your total idiocy_

_Is such a thing to see_

_But it makes me want to_

_shove your head into a lavatory._

_

* * *

_

"Well, at least the lyrics ring true," Casey grumbled.

Sarah continued to watch the screen with rapt attention. Several of the Buy More employees had now began to sway to the music behind Casey. Lester and Jeff, meanwhile, had ripped open a package to one of the music video games the Buy More seels, and had pulled out a remarkably realistic-looking guitar and keyboard. Another Nerd Herder had grabbed a couple of pencils from the Nerd Herd desk and was keeping time on one of the washer/dryer combos.

Sarah's attention was diverted to the other side of the room by a strange sound. Looking over, she saw the General with a strange expression on her face. In shock, Sarah realized that she was laughing. In all the years she'd known the General, she'd never seen her smile, let alone laugh.

As Casey continued to shake his head, Sarah said, "You know, you never should have told Chuck that you were a choir boy. It must have stuck in his head."

"When he gets well," Casey retorted, "that boy is going to get the asskicking of a lifetime, and the only song we're going to have to hear is 'Taps.'"

"Casey, it's his subconscious. He can't help himself!"

"Yeah well, it's hard to believe he's even more annoying when he's asleep than when he's awake!"

* * *

_There's cotton 'tween your ears_

_Your head is full of clay_

_Your cortex_

_Is a vortex_

_Sucking all your thoughts away_

_Any thoughts that you may have_

_Should really be erased_

_I must confess_

_Your mind's a mess_

_And a terrific thing to waste._

_

* * *

_

"I must admit this isn't reassuring my concerns," the General said. "Doctor, I'm not sure what this is telling us, other than that the Intersect's getting worse. Is showing him a musical and forcing him to dream really helping us in any way?"

"More than one musical, actually." Seeing everyone's eyes on him, Dr. Farrow added, "What, I have a large DVD collection. And I think this is very informative, and I'm sure Colonel Casey would agree with me."

Colonel Casey grunted.

"Well, I still have my doubts," the General said, before turning back to the screen.

"Huh. Does the Buy More really sell saxophones?"

* * *

_Chuck your head's hollow_

_Your IQ's just so low_

_It would take ten miles of paper_

_Just to list what you don't know._

_Your total idiocy_

_Is such a thing to see_

_But it makes me want to_

_shove your head into a lavatory._

_

* * *

_

During the repeat of the chorus, dream Casey sat down on the Nerd Herd desk, singing into the microphone of one of the store's karaoke machines. Behind him, the assembled dream-Nerd Herders had moved into a line.

"Oh God," Casey grumbled. "Please tell me there's not going to be a kick line."

A second later, the song's tempo slowed down, and the kick line started.

* * *

_I can't take it anymore_

_Watching your back is such a chore_

_Everytime I see your dumbass_

_I wanna kick you out the door_

_This mission goes on and on_

_A war that's never won_

_Must I always be stuck here_

_Sitting the world's biggest moron._

_

* * *

_

"I'll kill him, I really will." Casey grumbled after the song finally ended.

"If I may say so, Colonel Casey," Dr. Farrow said, as he shut off the screen, "that might be part of the problem. Chuck clearly feels inferior around you, leading to dreams like this."

"Well he is inferior."

Before Sarah could speak up, the General said, "Well, it couldn't hurt to butter him up a little. Tell him he's doing a good job, even if you have to lie. It's for the good of the country, Colonel." She stood up. "But I'm afraid it may be too late at this point. It appears that the Intersect is causing too many problems now, and I don't see any way that Team Bartowski can continue on. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to."

As the General left, Sarah could have sworn she heard her singing to herself, "Chuck your head's hollow…"

* * *

Sarah felt a lump in her throat as she considered the General's words. She couldn't imagine the team being disbanded. None of this was Chuck's fault, and yet Beckman wanted to give up on him. She looked up at Casey, who seemed a bit chastened as well. She was about to follow him out the door, when Dr. Farrow tapped her on the shoulder.

"Agent Walker? There's something else I need you to see."

Sarah nodded mutely, and sat back down. "Can I see Chuck?" she asked when Dr. Farrow returned to the room, holding another DVD.

"Shortly. Right now, you should watch this. There was another part to this last dream that I think you should see." He pressed play and left the room.

On screen, an image of Castle appeared. Sarah was there, packing a large black bag. She didn't look up when Chuck climbed down the stairs.

"Sarah, what's going on?"

"Chuck." Sarah didn't look up at him. "I'm leaving. I think that our team isn't working anymore. This last mission was just the final piece to show me that."

"But I can do better!"

"It's not you, Chuck. I'm clearly not what's needed here, so I've requested a transfer."

Dream Chuck looked at her, a dumbfounded expression on his face. Finally, he moved up to her, touched her arm, and turned her face to his.

"Sarah, listen to me."

* * *

_Sarah, my life being a spy_

_There's nothing I regret_

_Working to protect the lives_

_Of people I've never met_

_Every mission I've been on_

_Every villain we've taken down_

_Has made me feel like more_

_Than just some nerdy clown_

_Yet I know that why I'm here_

_Is not because of me_

_But because I see that you_

_Know all that I can be_

_But now there's this one mission_

_That I must make my own,_

_To show that you are more_

_Than you have ever known_

_And to this one mission_

_I will devote each day_

_To show you amazing you are_

_In each and every way_

_

* * *

_

On screen, Chuck inched closer as he sang. Sarah watched with rapt attention. Her onscreen doppelganger stood there unmoving, her expression unreadable.

* * *

_Sarah, I'm compromised_

_When I look in your blue eyes_

_Nothing in this world_

_Means more to me than you_

_Sarah, I'm compromised_

_More than you could realize_

_I've made it my sworn duty_

_To prove my heart is true_

_I know you think you're just a spy_

_A mere tool to be used and thrown aside_

_But trust my when I say you're wrong_

_You shouldn't let the real Sarah hide_

_And so I know what I must do_

_To find the girl behind the mask_

_To show her how much she means to me_

_I've never faced a greater task _

_Because I'm compromised_

_Of this I've finally caught wise_

_That Sarah Walker,_

_I love you._

_

* * *

_

It was the dream version of Sarah that acted first. She walked up to Chuck, and put a hand on his shoulder. Then she shook her head.

"Chuck. I'm sorry. I just…don't feel the same way. And I think it's best that I don't stay any longer."

She turned around, grabbed the bag from the table, and walked up the Castle steps.

The real Sarah had been so engrossed in what she'd seen that she didn't hear Dr. Farrow enter the room. It wasn't until his hand came into view to stop the recording that she realized that she wasn't alone.

"Tough to watch, wasn't it?"

Sarah nodded mutely, rubbing a tear away from her face.

"There was something like that in almost every one of Chuck's dreams. I just haven't shown them because, well frankly it's none of the General's business. But I do think that it's important for you to see it, because I think it's the root of his problem. All of his other fears are just a part of his feelings for you. I assume you know about them?"

"I…knew he liked me, but not to this extent. It didn't really hit me until I saw this."

"Well, expressing oneself in song does tend to do that. Why do you think I've been showing him musicals?"

The doctor sat down on the table and gave Sarah a direct look. "I guess I don't have to ask how you yourself feel." Seeing the CIA Agent's reaction, Dr. Farrow chuckled. "Come now, I'm a trained psychiatrist. I know how to read people. And they cover how to read a crying girl on day one of school."

Sarah laughed for a moment, then looked back at the now-blank screen.

"You know what you need to do, Agent Walker."

"Yes, but…it's complicated."

"It's _always_ complicated, Agent Walker."

"We work together. He's my asset. The General…"

"How about you let me handle the General. Like I said, I can read people, and I'm sure I can find the right buttons to push. And as for your partner, well it's obvious that he wants the best for you both. Despite his whole angry man shtick. Boy would he be an interesting case study, if I could ever get him on the couch" He put a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "But anyway, you need to talk to Chuck. He's in the next room. I'll give you some peace."

* * *

Sarah was thankful to see that Chuck was asleep, though the occasional twitch told her that it wasn't a restful slumber. A monitor stood on a table next to the bed, and she could see the occasional spike in heart rate. He was dreaming again.

She sat down on the bed, next to him and put a hand on his cheek. Her touch was soft as she didn't want to wake him. She looked down at his face, peaceful but not at peace. She studied him for a few moments, and soon realized that the doctor was right. She did know what to do.

Sarah wasn't much of a singer. She'd had to sing occasionally as a young girl. A poor, singing child was much more likely to garner sympathy than a poor, silent one. Her father had known that, and had occasionally stationed her on a street corner to warble "Three Blind Mice" or whatever other song seemed most likely to tug at the heartstrings of passers-by. As an adult, she'd only had to sing once, during a mission where she posed as a torch singer. The mission hadn't gone well, as her identity had been confirmed only a few bars into "Someone to Watch Over Me."

But sitting there next to Chuck, she managed to find her voice.

* * *

_Chuck, I'm compromised_

_When I look in your brown eyes_

_Nothing in this world_

_Means more to me than you_

_Chuck, I'm compromised_

_You're real in a world of spies_

_I can't lie to myself anymore_

_About how much my feelings grew_

_I'm supposed to be this tough spy_

_An agent with everything to hide_

_But you tore away this cover_

_To reveal the girl inside_

_And now I just can't face_

_That you might leave me now_

_To be without you near_

_I can't imagine how_

_Because I'm compromised_

_Of this I've finally caught wise_

_That Chuck Bartowski,_

_I love…_

"Chuck?"

* * *

Chuck's eyes fluttered open, and darted around, unfocused. A moment later, he saw Sarah.

"Sarah?"

"Chuck. Are you ok?"

Chuck pushed himself forward, and looked around the room. Turning back to Sarah he said, "Yeah, I guess. I just had the strangest dream. It's kind of fuzzy now, but…hmmmph."

Chuck remained silent after her lips finally left his. "Ok," he finally said, "maybe I'm still dreaming. Best dream ever, by the way."

"Chuck, I thought I'd lost you." Sarah grabbed his hand, and squeezed it tightly. "Chuck, I want you to listen to me. Whatever you think, I'm not going to leave you. I know that's what you've been afraid of, but you don't have to be. I want to stay here with you, no matter what. It's what… it's what I want. More than anything."

Chuck looked at her in surprise, then grinned. "You're sure?"

"Yes, Chuck. I'm sure. Just promise me you'll believe me."

"Well, I can try, but I could probably use a bit more convincing." Chuck wiggled an eyebrow.

"Better?" Sarah asked after the second kiss.

"Getting there."

"Well, I'm serious. And if I'm going to have to watch over you all night to make sure you sleep, that's what I'm going to do."

Chuck blushed. "Uh, wow, ok. Not that I'm complaining, but what about the General? And Casey?"

"Well, we can take turns, if you'd prefer."

"Uh no, that's ok. But won't they object to…you know, you and me?"

"Well, we can figure that out when the time comes. The important thing is that you get better, and we put an end to all of these awful dreams."

Chuck nodded. "Ok. But they haven't all been that bad, you know. This last one, I think I was dreaming that you were singing to me. How crazy is that?"

* * *

_There will be one more chapter for this story (if it really counts as a story anyway). _

_Please let me know what you thought of this. I really have no idea how well this worked, though I do admit the second song was pretty darn cheesy. I will say that writing lyrics is much harder than writing in general. Choosing the right words is hard enough without having to worry about whether they rhyme or not._


	6. Where Somebody Knows Your Name

_I do not own 'Chuck.' And in fact, if the actual owners of 'Chuck' read this story, they'd probably beat me over the head with their bags of money._

_Ok, they'd probably have to steal some bags of money from Mark Burnett or Simon Cowell, or somebody else who makes money in TV. But either way, my head would still come out on the losing end of the transaction._

**Chapter 6. Where Somebody Learns Your Name**

"Chuck, we need to talk."

Chuck looked up from the counter and glanced around the room. As usual, the place was crowded. Ever since the CIA had expanded it, the Orange Orange had always been busy. Today was no different, as the clattering of spoons and low murmur of conversation could attest. As strange as it seemed to him, Chuck missed having his cover at the relative calm of the Buy More. Fixing computers was much closer to his area of expertise than dessert-making, after all.

"Can it wait?" he asked Sarah.

Before she could respond, the door opened.

"Lester!" the assembled customers shouted at the appearance of the Orange Orange's most loyal patron.

"What's going down, Mr. P?" Morgan asked, momentarily putting down the dish he had been cleaning.

"My caloric intake, Morgan," Lester replied. "Let's see if you can do something about that." He sat down at his regular seat, next to Jeff.

Chuck watched his best friend scoop the frozen yogurt. He hadn't really been surprised when Morgan had decided to follow him to the Orange Orange, and he didn't mind having him around, or course. Still, he wished his friend's loyalty had its limits. Chuck wasn't sure there was much future in food service for his bearded buddy.

"So how are things with Anna, Morgan?" Devon asked, seated at the other end of the counter.

"Oh, great, Dr. Woodcomb," Morgan replied as he finished scooping out Lester's usual (one-third mango, one-third peanut butter, and one-third mint). "Anna's terrific. We like the same things, and always have a lot of fun together. But…"

"But?" Devon asked, leaning in, his bedside manner kicking in. "There's something wrong?"

"Well, I just wish her father would accept me."

"Ah, yes," Devon said. "A wealthy man like Mr. Wu can be a bit difficult in that regard. Keep in mind, Morgan, that his actions are usually a manifestation of his disappointment at having a girl instead of a boy."

"Listen to the Doc, Morgan," General Beckman said as she cleared off a table near the entrance. "Thank how his father must have felt."

Chuck rolled his eyes. It was bad enough that the General had insisted on staying on the premises, but her decision to take the role of an Orange Orange waitress had led to nothing but grouchiness and insults. At least they weren't directed at him this time.

"Oh, Hogwash," Ellie said from her seat next to Devon. "What my husband doesn't know about human behavior could fill an entire bookshelf. Morgan, just be yourself, and Mr. Wu will eventually come to accept you."

"Why thank you, Mrs. Doctor Woodcomb."

"It's only natural. A man of his age is eventually going to realize he needs to lower his expectations."

"They're just teasing you, Morgan," Sarah spoke up. Despite the currently hectic surroundings, she was seated at the counter, looking through a book. "But really, if you're serious about this girl, you're going to have to stand up to her father eventually."

"But how do I do that, Miss Walker?"

"Like this," the General said as she finished with the table. She walked up to Sarah, grabbed the book, and hit her on the head with it. "How about working for once!"

Sarah ignored Beckman. "Morgan, just speak to him, man to man. Tell him how you feel about Anna."

"And then run really fast when he gets his shotgun," Lester said. "I wish that's what I'd done." He stared at the ring on his finger, and sighed gloomily.

"You know, it's not that I'm questioning you , Lester," Devon pointed out, "but don't you think it's a bit strange that none of us have ever seen this wife of yours?"

"Trust me, Doc," Lester replied. "It's for the best. I'm going to have to have two more Mango Butter Mint Fro-Yos just to look at her tonight. Morgan, trust me, running is your best option."

"Did you know," Jeff spoke up, "that there's this tribe in Borneo where it's traditional to eat your father-in-law?"

"Too bad you don't have kids," General Beckman remarked, "you'd probably feed an entire tribe."

* * *

"I'm leaving."

"What?" Chuck exclaimed. It was late afternoon, dead time in the retail frozen yogurt business. Once Lester had been pushed out the door, the Orange Orange became customer-free. Morgan had left to meet Anna, and the General had gone downstairs to Castle, leaving Chuck with a chance to talk with Sarah alone.

Chuck had actually been looking forward to this moment. While their interactions were still driven by the perpetual "will they/won't they" loop that would drive anyone crazy, he hoped that their working side-by-side at the Orange Orange would bring things to a boil. So any chance to get her alone was on opportunity.

They had gone into the back room of the restaurant, where the yogurt was kept cool. Sarah had been waiting for him, her arms wrapped around herself, warding off the chill. Chuck's hopes were quickly dashed, though, when she spoke. Her words seemed as chilly as the surroundings.

"You knew this day was coming, Chuck," she continued. "This mission was never going to last forever."

Chuck didn't know what to say. "But… what about you and I?"

Sarah motioned for Chuck to sit down on the counter by the sink. "Chuck, you're sweet, but do you really think the two of us could have a future?"

"I do if you would be willing to give it a try."

"I'm not saying that things wouldn't start out well. That there wouldn't be sparks. Opposites do attract, after all." She reached out to touch his face. "And I'm not saying I don't want to. I mean, look at you. You're hot."

Chuck blinked in surprise. He had been working out recently down at Castle gym, and it was nice to know that it had been helping. The momentary pride he felt floated away, though, when he remembered what they'd been talking about. "So, what's the problem then?"

Sarah shrugged. "In the end, what do we have in common? We're from two different worlds."

Before Chuck could object, Sarah continued. "You and I are completely different.

You've always been this man of action, a jock."

Clearly Sarah had never seen him on a basketball court. He didn't see any point to arguing with her, though, so he let her carry on.

"It's exciting watching you, believe me. They way you can just react to things. Without thinking about what could go wrong, or the ramifications, you just act. And that's great, because it's you."

It didn't sound like him. But he figured he could argue with her when she was finished.

"But that's not me," Sarah continued. "I guess I'm a bit more…timid."

"Sarah, you're not timid." Chuck couldn't believe he'd actually need to say that.

"It's nice of you to say. But I am. I'm timid. Shy. Bookish, even. I mean there days I wish I could just curl up and watch TV instead of going on a mission."

Sarah began pacing across the room. "And let's be honest. Outside of missions, what do we have to talk about?"

"Well, there's always making fun of Casey."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, there's that. You'll just have to give him double grief when he gets back."

"When is that?" Chuck asked, momentarily forgetting their argument.

"Probably any day now. Who knew that going undercover at a dance competition would take so long?"

"Hopefully this means he'll lose that weight again."

Sarah smiled. "If not from that, then from trying to keep up with you. Especially since it's just going to be him here from now on."

"Then you're really serious about this?" Chuck protested.

Sarah shook her head. "I'm sorry, Chuck. But be honest with yourself. Once we get done joking around, what else can we talk about? I mean, you know what happens whenever we try to talk about current events, or culture. You just get lost."

"Huh?" Now Chuck was really confused.

"Exactly, just like that. Frankly, you just don't seem to be able to keep up with me. Chuck, face it, eventually I'm going to get bored with you."

Sarah's tone throughout all of this was friendly and cheerful, but not warm. It was as if Chuck was listening to a Realtor talk about a property that had just been sold. And the look that was radiating from her brown eyes pity, not concern.

While Chuck was wondering why he'd never before noticed that Sarah's eyes were brown, Sarah pressed on. "And it's not just that. Chuck, you've always been closed off with your emotions. It's like you want to seem tough, and won't really let anyone in. I don't think I can sit around and wait for you forever top open up to me. I don't even know your real name."

"It's Chuck, Sarah! You know that."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Please. We've gone too far now for that. Surely, you can see the truth in this."

"So you're just going to leave?" Chuck asked.

"It's time. That's certainly obvious. Trust me, we'll all look back in a few years and it will be clear that leaving was the right decision." Sarah removed her apron, and tossed it to the side. "Good-bye."

"Wait, no!"

Sarah briefly turned around. "Hmm?"

"My name…"

"Yes?" Sarah asked.

"…It's Sam."

Sarah shook her head. "No, not that one. Your other one. Your real one." She opened the door and disappeared.

Chuck stood there for a few minutes, staring at the wall in bewilderment. None of it made any sense. What name was she supposed to have? And how could Sarah act like that. That wasn't the girl he knew. And the person she'd been describing, it just didn't sound like Chuck. In a strange way, it seemed more like…

* * *

"Sarah!"

It always took a few moments for the blonde agent's eyes to react to the dark, so it was the hand on her shoulder that brought her back first. Blinking, she recognized the now-familiar bedroom, and turned to the man beside her.

"Sarah, were you dreaming?"

Other than the concern emanating from his eyes, Chuck seemed to be in much better shape. Clearly the weeks of finally restful sleep had done him some good. Sarah wondered whether the fact that he hadn't been spending those nights alone had made any difference.

Seeing that he wasn't going back to sleep until they'd talked, Sarah nodded. "Yeah, ironic, huh?"

"Well it's ok, I'm here." Sarah fell into his embrace, hugging him tightly. "Do you want to talk about it?" she heard him ask.

She didn't. But as strange and uncomfortable as the dream was, it certainly delivered its point. "It was really weird. I was…you, I think. But not really. And it was the Orange Orange, but not really. More like…'Cheers.'"

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "I knew that post-mission TV marathon was a bad idea."

Sarah lay back down. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I didn't mean to wake you up. Now that you can finally sleep without dreaming, and it's mine that get in the way."

"Hey." Chuck leaned over her. "Don't do that. If you and I are going to work, we need to talk to each other, and be there when the other has a problem. So, tell me about zis dream." He put this last part in a terrible fake-German accent.

Sarah laughed, before she relented and explained her dream to Chuck.

"Huh," Chuck said after Sarah had finished. "General Beckman, and not Casey, as Carla. Not really the way my subconscious would have cast it."

"You know," Sarah replied, "just because we're together now doesn't mean I'm not going to tell Casey you said that."

Chuck made a face. "Please. He's already pissed at me for that musical number my last dream stuck him in. Anyway, it's never going to happen."

"What? You think I'm bluffing about Casey?"

"No, not that. My leaving you. Never gonna happen."

"How can you know for sure?"

Chuck sat up, leaning against the bedpost. "I'll give you three reasons. First off, I am a wise person."

"That's your first reason?"

"Well no, but I'm getting to it. You see, I've been thinking a lot about dreams lately, for obvious reasons. The way I see it, dreams aren't just this momentary brain hiccup. What I think happens is people have all this stuff running through their brains when they're awake." Chuck waved his hand around to emphasize his point. "Not just thoughts, but feelings and emotions too. And when you're awake, the brain has to deal with all of this other mundane stuff, like which foot goes first when you're walking, and the names of everyone you know, and all the steps to the Macarena."

"I'm pretty sure that last part isn't getting in the way of my brain."

Chuck made a face. "Guess you didn't go to as many high school dances as I did," he said ruefully. "Still, it's a lot of stuff, and the brain can't sort everything out when it also has to deal with all of the routine stuff. But when you're asleep, the basic processes can be pushed aside, and the brain can start sorting through all the complicated things, and try to make sense of that. And dreams are just the by-product of that."

Sarah couldn't decide whether Chuck's explanation was brilliant or ridiculous. "Ok, but what's your point?"

"Sarah, most of the time, dreams just stay in the background, never going further than the brain cleanup from the night before. But you saw my dreams. You saw all of the stuff rattling around in my mind. And yeah, the Intersect was there to crazy things up a bit, but the real stuff was there too. You saw exactly how I feel about you. And that should make it clear that I want this, this us, so much. And I'm not going to walk away from that."

Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "Ok. What's reason number two?"

"Reason number two," Chuck continued on, putting his hand on Sarah's. "There is absolutely no way I could ever be bored with you. Every day I spend with you, I learn something new. Something great. You're like this fantastic mystery that I can't put down." Chuck paused for a moment. "Just without the homicidal butler in the end."

"And number three. Just look at your dream. As strange and…unflattering as it was for your subconscious to compare me to Shelley Long, I think we have to see the take home message in all of this. You're comparing me to somebody who had something really great, and gave it up. A choice she now has to look back at with regret for the rest of her life. She threw it all away for… 'Troop Beverly Hills.' You don't think I can't see the significance of that?"

"So there you go. Three reasons why you're stuck with me."

Sarah sat in the bed, thinking about Chuck's words. While they were certainly reassuring, she knew that she couldn't just ignore her fears either. Since Chuck had recovered, she had talked a lot with Dr. Farrow. Much of the conversation had been about Chuck, but frequently he had turned things around and talked about her. It had been uncomfortable, but she knew it was probably necessary. It was clear that she needed to be more open, to herself and to Chuck. And she now could see that things had been weighing on her mind more than she had realized. If Chuck could find a life lesson from her dream, then so could she.

Sarah gave her boyfriend an intense look. "Chuck, thank you for being honest with me. It does help. But I know I need to do more. Be more honest and open."

She swallowed and glanced around the room before turning back to him. "Ok then." Sarah steeled herself. "In my dream, I wanted to tell you my name. My real one."

"Right, you mean Sam. Wait," Chuck said speculatively, "it isn't Samantha Malone, is it?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "No. 'Sam' was _your_ dream, remember. And it's not Malone either." One deep breath later, she spoke. "My original name, the one I was born with, was Amanda. Amanda Lenox."

Chuck didn't react for a moment, and Sarah feared that she had made a mistake. A few seconds later, though, Chuck held out his hand. "Well hello, Amanda. It's nice to meet you, finally."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Aren't we a little past shaking hands?"

"Shh. Don't let my girlfriend Sarah know." Chuck put his hand on hers. "I'm glad you told me."

Sarah smiled. "Me too." She leaned in and kissed her boyfriend.

"You know," Sarah said afterwards. "My dad actually wanted to name me something different. Believe it or not, he used to be big on comic books too. He wanted to call me Selina before my mom put her foot down."

Chuck's eyes widened. "Selina? As in Selina Kyle? He wanted to name you after Catwoman?"

Sarah nodded.

Chuck's head dropped back to the pillow and he shut his eyes.

"Chuck? What are you doing?"

"Trying to fall back to sleep. I _really_ need to have another dream now."

"Chuck." Sarah's voice was about an octave lower than usual.

Chuck popped an eye open and flashed a big smile. "I'm just kidding. I promise I won't call you Selina or Catwoman. Except maybe on special occasions."

"You'd better watch it, or I'm going to have to find my whip."

Sarah watched Chuck struggle with that, trying to decide whether to be frightened or turned on. Finally, he spoke, with his voice cracking slightly. "So, what should I call you now?"

Sarah didn't need long to think about this. "Sarah. That's how you know me. And I feel like Sarah's more of a real person than Amanda ever was."

Chuck smiled. "Ok, Sarah. So, are you feeling better? You'll be able to sleep now?"

"I am feeling better. But I'm wide awake now, so I don't think sleep is in my immediate future." She gave her best impression of Chuck's eyebrow waggle. "Perhaps there's something else we can do here to pass the time. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

Chuck flashed his megawatt smile. "It'd be a dream come true."

**End**

* * *

_So in another instance of Art meeting … Amateurish Imitation of Said Art, I had meant to include a reference in here to the Orange Orange's long-standing feud with the LargeMart's 'Old Time Ice Cream Dispensary.' Alas, the last episode had something very similar in it, so it wound up on the cutting room floor (I never knew I'd need a cutting room, but I'm glad I have one. It's in between my billiard room and my conservatory)._

_So the first thing I should say here is to thank everyone who actually followed this story, given how long it took to finish a story with so few chapters. Much of the problem was that it's tricky to find something to spoof that would work with the story. You need to be able to line up all the characters, and have some underlying conflict that fits in with what Chuck was going through in the story. _

_So, this led to the rejection of Harry Potter (plus: Casey and Sarah as Ron and Hermione!; minus: other characters didn't line up, and the dead parent angst didn't fit – at least at the point where my story took place), Tolkien (plus: obvious jokes about the Ring; minus: not much in the way of female characters), and Twilight (plus: Team Sarah vs. Team Jill!; minus: I'd have to read the &%# books). I did consider a Superfriends/Justice League spoof, with Casey as Superman, Sarah as Wonder Woman, Jeff and Lester as the Wonder Twits, and Captain Awesome as… Captain Awesome. But the idea of Chuck as Aqua Man struggling with feelings of inadequacy over his largely useless powers made a lot more sense with Intersect 1 than with Intersect 2. _

_So the story sat. And while this did give me a chance to go all 'Dallas' with Season 3 (I know, enough with the 80s TV show references), it also probably drove away any interest in the story. So to those who have read this far, I thank you._

_So, please, any parting shots – good or bad – please put them in a review. They are always read, and always appreciated!_


End file.
